


i've always been molded this way

by lazl (bravegentlestrong)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Modern AU, Rare Pairings, Rarepair, Referenced Past Trauma, otp level: matching ptsd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-18 00:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11863038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravegentlestrong/pseuds/lazl
Summary: Once he'd been half in love with her. But that was years ago. Before Iraq, and what happened at the end of that summer. He never thought he'd see her again, least of all in group therapy.OR: two very broken people meet up after years, get the professional help they need, and fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darylvdixon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darylvdixon/gifts), [soapieturner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapieturner/gifts).



> General format of the chapters will involve 2 present tense scenes split up by one glimpse into the past. Alternating POVs. Title from Clean by the Japanese House which is a very #theonsa song.

**NOW**

 

Theon had never expected to see Sansa Stark again, let alone at _Dialectal Behaviour Therapy: The Road to Resilience_. If he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t be here either. But Asha had registered him, and said he had to go if he wanted to keep living with her. Theon had nowhere else to go, so he’d shown up to the multipurpose room at the YMCA as instructed.

 

Sansa Stark had no business here. She was the golden girl — homecoming queen, honour student, cheerleader, Ivy League-bound — who’d spent a summer slumming it with him.

 

It was her, though, looking down at the table with her eyes closed. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, just as long as it had been all those years ago, and he’d lost a lot of his memories in Iraq but he’d never forgotten how red it had looked against white sheets. 

 

“If you could take your seat, we can begin,” the psychologist said, gesturing to him. 

 

Sansa opened her eyes and yawned. Theon moved to sit down, and Sansa glanced over at him. Her jaw tightened when she saw him, but she was so still it was almost imperceptible.Their eyes locked for a moment, and they were as blue as he remembered. He could look at her all day, really, but something shifted in him and he looked away in shame.

 

He wasn't good at focusing on anything anymore anyway, but having her here certainly didn’t help. He was almost completely zoned out until he heard Sansa’s voice. 

 

“I’m Sansa, my favourite tree is… birch bark… and… I won an award for my poetry last week.”

 

He realized that eventually he’d have to say something too. He listened to the next two people and guessed you were supposed to say your name, your favourite tree, and something positive. It was weird and forced, but he’d been to enough of these bullshit mental health seminars to know the drill.

 

“I’m Theon, my favourite tree is an oak? And…” he’d left the house today, that was probably the best thing that had happened to him recently. He decided to lie. “And I’m getting a puppy.”

 

That aroused interest from the table. Dogs always hit the mark in a room of depressed people. It even made Sansa smile, which made him wish he really was getting a puppy.

 

The psychologist talked for what had to be twenty minutes before leading a mindfulness exercise.

 

He tried to meditate, just like he’d tried to be ‘mindful’ with all the apps Asha had installed on his iPhone. It never worked, so he gave up and opened his eyes. It was probably the last chance he had to get a good look at her. God knows she wouldn’t be coming back here now that she knew he was here, not after what had happened with her younger brothers.

 

She was still gorgeous, but that just made him think of how he must look to her now. It wasn’t just the scars. They had mostly healed. But he walked differently, he was somehow shorter. He was missing a few fingers, and he didn’t get outside enough anymore, so he was pale and his hair was a little too long. He didn’t sleep much, and it showed on his face. He’d been something to behold once, handsome enough to tempt her into his bed despite the fact that she swore she loathed him.

* * *

 

**THEN**

Theon had asked Sansa out half a dozen times. She’d always said no with a roll of her eyes. It didn’t matter, it was a lark. A joke to get Robb worked up. He liked the chase more than he wanted her, but that changed when she cornered him in the hallway as he made his way back to Robb’s bedroom. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. She was a methodical kisser, but he was messy and the way she sighed against his chest told him she liked it.

 

She’d acted like it had never happened afterwards, until the night of her graduation party. He was there, because he was always there, sitting around the pool with Robb and Jon. He’d gone to refill the beer in his red solo cup. But she took his hand again and pulled him into the pool house.

 

Theon wasn’t drunk enough to blame it on the booze if Robb caught them, but he’d drank enough for everything to feel softer. He followed her lead and sat on the couch with her. They just kissed for awhile, not saying anything. As though they were two bodies, two perfect strangers. And they were, really, because he didn’t know this girl. She was nothing like the Sansa he’d watched grow up. Holier than thou prissy Sansa Stark did not nibble on his lips or run her fingernails down his back. She certainly didn’t pull him closer when they were both in their swimsuits, half naked and wet. 

 

He wanted her, and if she’d been anyone else his fingers would already be buried inside of her. It would be so easy to untie the knots on her bikini. But this was different. She was Robb’s sister, and she was gentle and innocent and almost four years younger than him. He knew where Ned Stark kept his gun, and he didn’t want to be on the other end of it. Still, when she laid down and pulled him with her he didn’t object.

 

“Shouldn’t I take you on a date or something?” he asked, even though she was already underneath him with her hands laced through his hair.

 

Sansa paused to consider, “no, it’s not like that.”

 

“What’s it like then?”

 

“A phase. I need to get boys like you out of my system.”

 

“Boys like me?” he said it with a wry smile, but it hurt underneath. Bad news, she meant. Boys her father wouldn’t approve of. 

 

“I wouldn’t normally be tempted, but you looked awfully good in your uniform tonight.”

 

“That’s why I wore it.”

 

“Oh yeah?” she giggled, her breath warm against his neck. She moved her hands in between them. Her hands fumbled, but she was so eager the clumsiness of it was kind of sexy. He didn’t need much convincing, and she knew it. The way she wrapped her legs around him was enough to make him forget any shred of honour he had.

* * *

 

**NOW**

 

He doesn’t get more than a block away before he heard her call his name. He turned around and waited for her to catch up to him. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, his breath unsteady. He didn’t know what she wanted with him, and he couldn’t deal with uncertainty anymore.

 

When she caught up, she had a sad smile on her face. He’s seen the look before. She doesn’t even need to say it. _What happened to you?_ Her eyes are kind, and he doesn’t begrudge her curiosity. But he struggled to find words nowadays, even for her. Especially for her.

 

“You weren’t going to say anything?” 

 

He’d always had something to say back when they were together. Something loud and obnoxious most of the time. But he was a different man now, if he could even be considered a man at all. The cocktail of drugs the VA had him on didn’t just give him brain fog, they kept him impotent too. Fucking had been one of his only talents, and he could barely get it up anymore.

 

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk,” he offered.

 

“Well, it’s been a long time.” Sansa looked down at the pavement. 

 

“I promised your brother I’d stay away,” he said by way of explanation. Because he never had explained. That night at the hospital Robb had said he’d kill him if he caught him talking to his sister again. And Theon had fucked right off, dropping off the face of the earth. He doubted Sansa even thought about him in the intervening years. They had been just a momentary thing, just something to pass the time before she went off to college and he shipped off to the middle east.

 

“Robb’s dead,” Sansa said, matter-of-factly, her face not betraying a single emotion.  

 

“I heard.” Friendly fire, Asha had told him. He should have been there. And he would’ve, if he hadn’t put in for a transfer after the incident with Bran and Rickon. Instead he’d ended up a POW for a year and Robb had ended up dead by the hands of his own men. A training accident or something. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

“Did you want to get a coffee or something? And talk?” She meets his eye again, and he swears there’s something like hope in her eyes. 

 

But he’s a coward.  “I have to get home. My sister’s waiting for me.” It was a lie, but what else could he say? That he couldn’t face her? That he felt one of his episodes coming on? That he’d probably spend his night curled into a ball until Asha forced him to eat something?

 

“Oh,” she said. She paused, and silence fell between them. “Well, my number’s still the same. If you change your mind.”

 

Sansa turned and left, and he thought about stopping her. He should give her the apologies she deserved, but it as a little late now. He should have apologized three years ago.

 

He watched her go. She didn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**NOW**

 

Sansa didn’t think Theon would call. But two days later he had. In an awkward conversation that lasted about three minutes they established he lived in Williamsburg and she lived in Park Slope and they decided on a Starbucks in the middle.

 

“When are you free?” he asked.

 

“Tonight,” she said, “once I get home from school… maybe around 7?” 

 

Sansa hadn’t been able to focus in her Art History class and ducked out of class early. This wasn’t unusual behaviour. She skipped as many classes as she attended nowadays. She got panic attacks, and she hated having them in public. She wasn’t sure what it was this time. She couldn’t blame it on Theon’s reappearance in her life. This was what she was like now, because of the boy’s that came after Theon, and the way her family had unravelled over the past year. 

 

She had a box of polaroids under her bed from the summer before she went away to college, and she digs it out and rifles through it for the first time in years. Sansa had loved to take pictures and Theon had never shied away. The rest of her family had always ducked out of the frame or blocked the lens with a hand. It wasn’t Theon that made her reluctant to open it. He wasn’t what haunted her. She’d forgiven him years ago. 

 

It was Robb. Her brother had been so handsome and kind and _happy_. That summer had been the last time she’d been truly happy. Robb at the beach, Robb with his arm around Margaery, Rickon sitting on Robb’s shoulders. Robb with Theon in a headlock, Theon kissing her cheek, not one but six polaroids Theon had ‘slyly’ taken of his dick. She’d had tears in her eyes but it still made her laugh. It was a nice dick.

 

Everything about that summer had been perfect except how it ended. She remembered it in flashes — listening to Taylor Swift on max with Bran and Rickon in the backseat, driving too fast, all three of them urging him on, his crazy laughter, the deer in the middle of the road, swerving to the side, hitting the ditch, waking up in the hospital. Earlier that night he had licked melting ice cream off her chin, but Robb set his jaw and said “he could have killed you.” Her mother had been livid. “Never should have trusted a Greyjoy with my children.” But it had  been her fault too. She said as much, but she’d just been wasting her breath. Theon had upped and left. She made herself believe she didn’t care. And she’d forgotten about it, life moved on, and it was only the beginning of her bad luck.

 

If he’d stayed they could have worked it out. He was obnoxious, sure, but he just wanted attention. And when she’d given him hers she’d seen who he really was, who he could have been.

 

“You okay, Sans?” Margaery asked from the open doorway. 

 

Margaery looked concerned, but she really shouldn’t be. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught her pathetic roommate sitting on the floor crying.

 

“I didn’t know you were home,” Sansa said weakly, brushing her tears away with the sleeve of her shirt.

 

Margaery shrugged and crossed the room to sit next to her. “I’m a quiet sleeper. You’re a quiet cryer. We are very courteous roommates.” Margaery reached an arm around Sansa and held her. She paused as she looked at the polaroid Sansa held in her hand. “What’s going on, hon? That cock is perfectly fine. Nothing to cry over. Above average, even.”

 

Sansa forced a smile. She didn’t really feel like joking around about dicks. She reached in the box and pulled out another photo. This one of Robb, Sansa, Theon and Margaery herself at the drive in at dusk. 

 

Margaery held the polaroid between her thumb and forefinger. Sansa could see it happen – the flash of sadness, and how easy it was to push away.

 

“That was a good summer,” Margaery said, her voice sweeter than before.

 

Sansa loved Margaery but she didn’t understand. Not really. Sure, they’d dated a bit but Robb was overseas for most of their “relationship”. She’d barely known him. And it had been so off-and-on anyway. But Theon would know. That’s why she itched at the chance to talk to him again. If it weren’t for the girls and, well, the fact that she was the one fucking him, she would have assumed Theon and her brother were an item. Before that night in August, they’d barely left each other’s side. It would have been easier if Sansa had never gotten involved. She had a bad habit of fucking everything up.

 

“Yeah,” Sansa said, her voice getting caught in her throat. 

 

They sat in silence for a moment, but it was evidently a moment too long and it betrayed the severity of Sansa’s angst. Margaery hugged her tightly and did her best to fill the awkward silence with pleasantries, as she always did. “Is the… um… DBT thing is making everything easier?”

 

“Not really,” Sansa said glumly, not having the heart to lie.

 

“Well, it’s only been one session. There’s still time. I’ve looked it up. It’s a process. And you need to commit.” 

 

Margaery was good at telling Sansa what to do, how things could be. And so often Sansa had listened to her. All through high school, hell, through most of college. But Margaery was full of ideas that sounded good but ended up badly. Sure, Joffrey had beaten her, and Margaery had been the one to pull her out of that mess. But when they broke up, Margaery had pushed her into Harry’s arms, and he’d taken what was left of Sansa’s self esteem.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll um, do that. I think I need to get ready, though. I have plans,” Sansa said, her voice colder than she’d wanted it to be.

 

Sansa shrugged out of Margaery’s embrace and moved to her feet. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror and shuddered. She shouldn’t have looked at the pictures before. She was due to meet Theon in an hour. 

 

**THEN**

 

She really hadn’t planned on this. Sure, she’d wanted to lose her virginity before she went away for college, but Sansa and Margaery had spent a good hour coming up with a list of contenders and Theon Greyjoy certainly wasn’t on it.

 

But what could she say? She had a thing for guys in uniform. She hadn’t meant to develop a crush on Theon of all people, but she’d noticed how broad his shoulders were. And when he’d answered the phone once, he’d accidentally flexed his bicep, and that had stirred something in her too. He was… convenient.  

 

She hadn’t planned on continuing it either. She’d done away with her virginity more than a week ago. If it hadn’t took that first time, the half-dozen times since must have done the trick. It’s not like she was developing feelings. She just liked the way he felt on top of her.

 

“Where are you off to?” Theon asked from the couch on the living room.

 

“Jeyne Westerling’s party,” Robb answered before she had a chance.

 

Sansa grinned. Of course Robb knew. He had been very specifically uninvited, but Sansa didn’t really care. There wasn’t much to do when you were underage and didn’t have a fake id.

 

“Wanna come? Robb can’t go. Too many of his exes will be there.” Theon may be a fuckboy, but Robb was a serial monogamist and girls tended to hold grudges when they actually loved you. “And I could always use a designated driver.”

 

“Sounds better than this,” Theon said, as he gestured to whatever lame superhero movie the pair of them were watching tonight. He looked at Robb somewhat apologetically, but nonetheless he was on his feet and pulling his shoes on before she had to ask twice. 

 

When they were in the driveway, Theon pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. She followed behind him and got into the passenger’s seat. They didn’t say anything as they pulled out of the driveway. But they didn’t talk much anyway, not unless they were naked. He whispered all sorts of vile things into her ear. At first she’d hesitated, but she’d began paying him back in kind. It gave her a thrill to say such filthy things out loud.

 

A few minutes later, when they’re safely away from her parents’ house, Theon looked over at her. “Was a designated driver all you wanted?” he asked.

 

“No, there was something else.”

 

“And what is that?” he asked, feigning confusion. 

 

He wants her to spell it out for him. He liked it when she takes charge, he liked it when she begged. But his fingers weren’t curled inside of her inside right now, so she still had her  pride and wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

 

There was something she wanted, though.

 

“Could you buy me some beer for the party?”

 

That wasn’t it. She didn’t really care about Jeyne Westerling’s party.  She didn’t even care if they made it there. She wasn’t going to give in that easily, though. 

 

“Alright,” Theon said, a smirk on his face. “There’s something I want in return, though.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your panties.”

 

Her face flushed. She reached under her dress and pulled them down her legs, and passed him her underwear without comment. 

 

“Cute,” he said, eyeing them up  he stuffed them into his back pocket. 

 

The party itself was boring. She’d known these people all of her life, even if some were a few years older than her. Most of her attention was focused on Theon. She’d known him for years too, but not like this. He spent much of the night groping her ass through the thin fabric of her short shirt. She had to keep pulling it down so it wouldn’t ride up, and she tried her best to glare at him. He would only smile. Finally, when she’d had enough she pulled him into Jeyne’s parents bedroom. 

 

“You need to stop doing that!”

 

“What?”

 

“You know what.”

 

He had the nerve to laugh. As though he found it all very amusing. As though he wanted to expose her to a party full of people she’d known since kindergarten.  She narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak back, but he beat her to it.

 

“Bend over.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, she crossed her arms, she sighed, she tried to pretend she didn’t want him right now. That she’d never want such an idiot. 

 

But she did, and so after a minute of staring his dumb cocky grin she did turn around and bend over, touching her hands to the ground. If he teased her about how easy she was later, she’d claim it was just to shut him up. 

 

“Like this?” she asked innocently, as though she wasn’t thoroughly exposed. 

 

“Spread your legs.”

 

She inched her legs apart, and arched her back.

 

“Good girl,” he said. Then he whistled, and she almost laughed, because this was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be real. But then he said, “what a nice view” in a low voice and she felt a shiver run down her spine. He moved closer to her and ran a finger along her cunt. She gasped as his thumb rubbed against her clit. “Now I see why you were so worked up, you’ve got all this tension pent up and you need a helping hand.” 

 

He pushed two fingers into her. If this was anyone else she’d be embarrassed at how wet she was and how easy it was for him to fuck her. But it was him, and so she merely steadied her hands on the floor in front of her. 

 

She didn’t even think of the unlocked door until they were already on Jeyne’s parents bed. She’d won by then. She was on top of him, the straps of her sundress had fallen down exposing her breasts. She stopped, clenching down around him, and turned to look at the door.

 

She didn’t even have to say anything. “Who cares?” Theon asked, “let them find us.” His hands moved to her hips and he urged her along. She liked to be in charge, but her body didn’t care about the unlocked door either and responded eagerly to his attempts to set the pace.

 

**NOW**

 

Sansa wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell Margaery about it. Probably because she wasn’t sure how to feel about Theon anymore, and she couldn’t let anyone else shape how she saw it. She needed to make her mind up herself for once. Trust her instincts. Do what she wanted, not what she thought other people expected of her. So it was a secret once again, just like it had been when she’d first started climbing into his bed. 

 

It had taken her half an hour to fix her makeup. She hadn’t put on any eyeliner because her hand kept shaking. It’s was still shaking when she reached for the door handle at the Starbucks they’d agreed on. Breathe in and out, she reminded herself, like her therapist had told her. It doesn’t really work, but then nothing does. She was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. She wanted to get better, to move on, to be the girl she’d been once. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was only three years. Maybe there were answers here. Or maybe it would fuck her up even more. 

 

She arrived five minutes early but he was already there, looking out the window at the crowd passing on the sidewalk. He looks better today. He’d gotten a haircut, so his floppy blonde hair didn’t get in his eyes. He’d shaved and he’s wearing a button down shirt tucked into jeans. He’s slimmer than before, but he looks almost like Theon Greyjoy again. 

 

No, she thought. He looks like he’s on a date. Then she realized she must sort of look like that too. At least, that’s how it would look to anyone passing by. With her pink sundress, red lipstick and the dainty dragonfly necklace she was wearing. 

 

And it kind of was, wasn’t it? They were two old lovers catching up over coffee, after all. And when he looked over and caught her eye with a small smile and a little wave, she can’t be sure how she feels about it. The butterflies in her stomach aren’t all bad. It’s been awhile since she’s felt like this.

 

As Theon stood up and made his way over to her, she tried to make up her mind about how she felt about it. But she still wasn’t sure, not about anything, not about this.

 

“Hi,” she said, struggling to meet his eye.

 

“You look really nice,” he said, and it’s such a small compliment but it makes her smile all the same. She swore she was done with that, like wanting to be seen like that. But her cheeks flushed, just as they had the first time he’d said it, even when she pretended it didn’t do anything for her.

 

“Can I get you a coffee?” he asked, when she didn’t say anything.

 

She wasn’t much off a coffee drinker, not unless it was piled high with whipped cream. Theon and her used to do other things with whipped cream. 

 

“Iced raspberry tea with lemonade?” 

 

He smiled, and it’s the ghost of that cocky grin she’d loved to wipe off his face with a kiss. “I forgot how sweet you like everything.” 

 

And just like that she felt the ghost of what she used to feel for him run through her veins too. Hot and urgent. What was it? Being remembered? Was she really that easy? Maybe. 

 

“Bittersweet,” she corrected him. The smile on her face wasn’t fake for once. Gods she wished it was. It would be so much easier that way. “I’ll, um, go wait at the table,” she said, and scurried off before it became too real. She couldn’t just dive in to what they used to be, could she? She hadn’t had a chance to really think about it. Neither had he, and he was probably more broken than she was. It wasn’t healthy to just dive back into bed together. Even if she wanted to.

 

When was the last time she’d had a good fuck? Had she ever had one, after him? She wanted him on top of her like a security blanket. It’s not like she wanted him to marry her or be her boyfriend or anything. She just wanted him to pound her into the mattress. Even if it didn’t make her feel better, it certainly wouldn’t hurt.

 

Sansa had heard about what happened to Theon. Everyone had. It was on the news when they found him in a raid. She’d heard he was dead a year before that, and she’d more or less accepted it. She’d sent the Greyjoy family flowers, and she’d pitied them. That was before Robb died, when she still pitied other people. By hearing was one thing, seeing was another. He was broken too, a ghost, just like her.

 

Theon came back to the table five minutes later and placed her iced tea in front of her. He was more somber than before, as if she’d admonished him. She hadn’t meant to, not really.

 

“So you’re getting a puppy?” she asked when he didn’t speak.

 

Theon scratched the back of his neck. “Well, uh, that’s not for certain anymore.”

 

She smiled warmly, “that’s too bad.”

 

For half an hour, they skirted around what they were really here to talk about. They don’t even mention Robb’s name. They don’t talk about the time they’d almost died, or how Theon had just disappeared. They discuss his sister and her bad cooking, how he was learning to cook, her roommate, her dad’s senatorial campaign. 

 

And then she looked down and noticed her cup was empty. That this would be over soon, that she didn’t want it to be over. So she leaned over the small table and kissed him without thinking about it. She only grazed her lips against his, but it was like her kiss had woken something in him. Suddenly his hands were in her hair. His tongue tasted bitter, like the black coffee she didn’t like. But the way his tongue rubbed against hers felt good. Familiar. Easy.

 

It’a a little too much for Starbucks, and he must know that, so he pulls away. 

 

“Do you wanna, um, come back to my place?” she asked.

 

She could see on his face the exact moment he decided. The _fuck it_. The old Theon Greyjoy.


End file.
